Of Apple Pies and Honey Bees
by Louis Rene
Summary: A series of One Shots. Things I think of randomly and Tumblr prompts and stuff. Mostly Destiel. M for later smut.
1. Shoes

This will be my One-Shot dump. I'd rather never spam up my profile.

It will be mostly Destiel centered.

I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Erik Kripke.

Shoes

Post – Season 8

Castiel had originally feared his new human existence. His final fall from Grace left him alone with a metric ton of new sensations and a bombardment of emotion. As a member of the Great Host, sentiment was mutual and universal. He was never as an individual; not truly. An angel was merely a facet of his Father's will. He had a job and his own talents. But his thoughts were never his alone and his love was for God alone. He was not even a 'he.' Waking to a silent and solitary conscience was, at first, harrowing.

Yet it was an easier transition than Castiel imagined. Once he found Dean Winchester, the pieces of his twisted existence fell into place and routines set in. He learned to love the silence of the morning sunrise. It gave him time to find out about who he was as a person. He soon became obsessed with smells and tastes, (something Dean found quite endearing,) teaching himself to cook. As for Castiel's love, it became clear to everyone in the 'BatCave' that this particular gift belonged to one Dean Winchester. Of course, it was only obvious to everyone but Dean.

In all of this wonderful new set of experience, there was one thing Castiel hated more than anything: shoes.

"Cas!" A barking voiced interrupted Castiel's train of thought. What was he thinking about again?

"Hey!" The voice called out a second time as it's owner appeared in the morning light. Dean stalked outside, glaring daggers. In his hands, he held a pair of work boots. "Get your ass over here!"

Cas rolled his eyes as he turned to obey, striding silently to the hunter. "Hello, Dean." He tried to force a nonchalant tone, because he admittedly enjoyed annoying Dean. But he felt his lip twitch slightly and hoped the taller man took no notice. "May I help you?" He asked.

"Put 'em on." Those green eyes were fixed in an intense stare. He thrust the footwear into Cas' hands. Crossing his arms, he continued his intensity shield, desperate not to get sucked into Castiel's games. "Now."

The graceless angel looked down at the boot and sighed. He _hated_ shoes. "But, Dean-"

"No, Cas!" It was short and final.

Narrowing his eyes at the hunter, Castiel sat in the morning dew, enjoying the indignant huff from Dean. He thrust his sock-less feet into each boot, smirking as the curve of them went outward. He smiled and leaned back, showing his work.

"Cas. You are not two. You know your left and right." The tone sounded lighter than before as Dean began to crack. He never could escape the game.

Cas huffed audibly, receiving a grunt from the other man. He switched the shoes and gestured to his feet. "I have shoes on. Are you happy?" He asked, trying to sound annoyed.

"Tie 'em."

"I can't remember how."

"Liar." Despite himself, the elder Winchester kneeled and began to tie the laces, shaking his head. "Ya know, I have work to do. I can't be chasin' you with boots five times a day. You could at least make sure to, ya know, not slice your foot on broken glass."

"Dean, do you not watch where you walk?" His head tilted slightly, acting confused.

"Don't be a smart-ass." He finished both knots and stood.

Castiel looked down and frowned. "They make my feet sweat." He complained.

Dean sighed. "Well, if you put 'em on inside, you'd have socks."

He scowled and shook his head. "They barely help." He sighed heavily and looked down at his feet, smirking. "Can you bring my other shoes instead?" Bait.

Dean held out his hand, leaning towards Cas. The sunlight was skimming the treeline as dawn became day and the beams hit the hunter, illuminating him. The angel held his breath as he soaking in the freckled face and bright green eyes that reminded Castiel of a deep forest. He felt the heat pulling to the surface of the skin on his face and he remembered that it meant that he was blushing. As he had this embarrassing thought, he felt the heat intensify as he was pulled to his now leather-clad feet. Dean's nose fell mere inches from his own as he felt his equilibrium settle.

"Get 'em yourself."

.

Later, Dean passed the entrance of the bunker and stopped. Looking down, he noticed the still wet foot prints on the ground, heading into the BatCave. He opened the door and looked outside and there, on the grass, were the boots. "CAS!"

...

Sorry guys. I'm tired. And let's say drunk.


	2. The Fair

Ugh! I am sick and bleh. Here is some fluff for ya.

Season 5

The Fair

Dean inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of funnel cakes, popcorn and vomit. Beaming like a child, he rubbed his hands together and looked around, "Where to start?" He muttered.

"What are we starting?"

The slightly over six foot tall man jumped as his heart leapt into his throat. Spinning around, he was face to face with Castiel. Bright blue eyes were studying his own and Dean quickly became uncomfortable being the subject of Cas' studies. "Cas. Eighteen inches."

The angel took on an apologetic expression as he stepped back, yet keeping a close distance. "Hello, Dean."

"Dammit, Cas, I told you not to sneak up on me." He rubbed the back of his neck as his face grew warm. If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that Castiel had been on his mind as he drove to the county fair. Sam was busy, looking for new information on the Horsemen and the elder brother was restless. When they passed the signs on the road, Dean insisted that they stop. "And, dude, don't tell me you don't know what a county fair is."

Castiel's brows furrowed as he tilted his head to the side. "Why would I not tell you the truth?" He asked plainly.

"You angels really got the short end of the stick as far as fun is concerned." Dean shook his head, clicking his tongue. "I guess it's time for a lesson about livin'." He grabbed the trench coat by the wrist and tugged playfully.

"Dean." Here came the protests and the party-pooping. "We don't have time for this. We need to find Death."

The hunter frowned and his shoulders drooped. "Man, you and Sammy are such downers. Here I had this great night off for once and there happens to be a fair in town. Then you zap in and won't even play along."

Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment before a small smirk settled at the corner of his mouth. "Very well, Dean. If it is, in fact, your 'day off,' then you should do what makes you happy."

"Ya know what would make me happy? Kicking your ass in a bumper car." He must have looked awfully goofy with a huge, cheesey grin as he pulled the angel along with him to the bumper car tent. "Okay. So you use this pedal to go forward and this one to go back." He pointed into the small vehicle.

"What is the point of these little cars?" Cas asked as he settled into an orange one with the number seven on it.

"The point is to run into other people and whatever you do, do not get stuck." Dean hopped into a black one with the number eight, laughing. "The Bat Mobile!" He cried. The other cars began to fill up and soon the buzzer sounded. The hunter let out a happy laugh as he pressed the pedal to the floor, careening into Cas.

"Dean!" He yelled with indignity; which soon turned into vengeance. Not that his fury gave him anything. Castiel could not comfortably operate the bumper car and as soon as he got going, another person would smash into him. But he couldn't compare with the hunter as he sped and weaved his way through the cars and into his friend a fifth time.

When the buzzer sounded, the electric netting turned off and the cars stopped. The angel appeared next to Dean, frowning. "I could not get it to work properly. That car seems to be malfunctioning."

"Don't get sore 'cause you suck at it." Dean teased.

The two of them made their way through the fair, trying everything along the way. Dean was adamant about showing Castiel every aspect of the experience. They tried every food item ranging from sweet, melt in your mouth mini-doughnuts to mustard smothered corn dogs. Cas seemed to especially enjoy maple cotton candy. Dean grew warm at the sight of an Angel of the Lord stuffing his mouth with giant wads of sugary fluff and resisted the urge to pluck a chunk of it that stuck out.

They walked through the bazaar. Castiel seemed to know a lot about the origins of the tribal jewelery and even more about the weapons. At the leather tent-shop, the hunter plopped a black cowboy hat onto the dark brown, ruffled hair, laughing. The angel was thoroughly confused and insisted Dean inform him of the joke. This only made him laugh harder.

At the end of the shopping tents stood the line of carnival games. Peddlers called out to each passerby, looking to hook a few into play a game. It was fun to watch Castiel knock down each stack of bottles with angel precision and Dean had little trouble with the air rifle. But the hunter felt they needed to move on when Cas decided to 'liberate' the moles at Whack-a-Mole.

"Dean! Those rodents are being used for cruel purposes." He insisted as they wandered into the ride area.

"They aren't real, Cas." Dean assured him. "Plastic rodents."

"Oh. I see." They continued or a moment before Cas spoke again. "What's that?"

Dean looked up to where Castiel was pointing. "That?" He raised a brow, snorting. "That's just a ferris wheel. It stops at the top and you can see the whole shebang from up there. If it's a good fair, you can see the town, too." He started to walk away.

Castiel remained where he was, still staring up at the ferris wheel. "But didn't you want to do everything in the fair?" He asked when the hunter realized he wasn't being followed.

"Well, yeah. But a ferris wheel, Cas?" He shifted, fiddling with the ticket stubs in his pocket. But the angel clearly didn't understand and that sapphire stare was hard to say 'no' to. "Fine." He conceded, leading Castiel to the line.

The wheel took a little while to ascend as it was still filling up. Dead forgot how small the chairs were in the ride. Or maybe he was smaller back then. Either way, he was flush against the angel's side; leg to leg, shoulder to shoulder. The heat was almost too much and he pulled at his collar.

Castiel broke the tense silence. "I like this event. It's merry and full of joy. The food stuff is enthralling and the lights make it very fantastic. It reminds me of the hosts that gathered in Europe during the sixteenth century. The music and food and competition."

The hunter's arm felt cramped and he shifted, causing the chair to roc slightly. "Yeah. We humans like to find something to enjoy when everything goes to shit." Dean mused, settling his arm behind Castiel's shoulders. To hell with his pride. This was damn comfy. "The county fair is probably old as the US and they haven't changed much. Each little detail has a history."

"For example?"

"We're ridin' one." He gestured downwards as the wheel spun them up to the top and stopped. The view was spectacular. The fair sparkled below them and the stars and moon shone above. "This ride has a lot of history, Cas."

"Other than viewing?"

Dean chuckled and tightened his arm around the angel, pulling him close. "When you get to the top, you're supposed to lean in and give your girl the kiss of her life."

Castiel tilted his head pensively, thinking on the concept. Before the could figure it out in his head, warm fingers urged his chin upwards and his lips were pressed against Dean's. Before he could reacted, the hunter had pulled away, flashing a lady-killing grin. "Get it now?"

The angel nodded as the ride began to move. "I believe I do."

...

D'aaaawww. I promise some smut soon. Review and I'll be far more inclined.


	3. Honeysuckle

I know! I know! I promised smut. This is for Misha Collin's prompt on Tumblr. Here, Misha, enjoy Crazy!Cas.

Fluff

Season 7

Honeysuckle

Dean sighed heavily as he swung to motel door open. Trying to get a lead on Dick was turning up, well, dick. It was so frustrating that he had already needed to restock his hunter's helper three times a week. Speaking of which, the elder Winchester dropped his bag on the bed closest the bathroom and started rifling through it.

As he searched for the coveted bottle, something on his pillow caught his eye. Three yellow and white flowers were perched carefully atop the stained pillowcase Frowning, he reached out and picked up the flowers and looked around. There wasn't anything on Sammy's bed. Shrugging he tossed the flowers on the table and continued to search for the whisky.

. . .

The next day, Dean rolled out of bed. Sammy had left for food, judging by the empty bed and note on the table. Yawning, he trudged to the bathroom and pulled out his toothpaste. As he went to turn on the faucet, he stopped. Three yellow-white flowers sat on the hot and cold handles. He let out a confused, 'huh' and brought the flowers back into the room.

By then, Sam had returned with fruit and water. He eyes the tiny bouquet and raised a brow. "Someone being sweet on you?" He asked.

The elder brother shot him a glare. "I dunno what it is. They were on my pillow. Now in the sink. Some flower fairy's stalkin' me or somethin'."

Sam reached out and snatched them away. Inspecting the flowers he let out a laugh. "Oh I know exactly who sent these to you, Dean." He continued to chuckle as he set the anonymous gift back into his brother's hand. "I'm sure you'll be getting a lot more."

Dean scowled, annoyed that Sam was in on the joke. "How do you know who sent them?"

The younger hunter plopped down onto his chair and opened his fruit cup, laughing as he speared a piece of cantaloupe. "Because I know what they are, Dean."

Dean turned his back to the over grown bitch and looked closely at the flowers. The pedals were long and yellow with white. There were only four of them, configured with three pedals on the top and one on the bottom. The long bits in the center were very long. The smell of them were strong and sweet. He actually kind of liked the scent, not that he'd say that out loud.

He gave up and stashed them with the others before starting some research. After a few hours, he found himself rereading the same few lines over and over. It took him twenty minutes to get through a single paragraph. "That's it." He said, smacking his hands against the table firmly before standing to his feet. "I can't take it anymore."

As he reached for his coat, Sam called out. "Where ya going?"

"I need air." He shut the door with a snap and took in the cold air. Dean was glad to be rid of research for a minute and reveled in the freedom. It was like skipping class all over again. But his happy little dance ended as he caught sight of his baby. "Oh what the hell!?"

Stomping over to the Impala, it became clearer that the entire car was filled with something yellow. He wrenched the car door open and his mouth dropped. He stepped back for a moment to collect himself. Strangling a mentally unstable angel might not end well. After a few deep inhales, he leaned back down to address Cas and his beloved car. "Cas?"

The angel looked up, blue eyes wide and filled with glee. He was surrounded by the same flowers that had popped up in the last day or two and they filled the entire car. "Hello, Dean. I've found the most beautiful clearing in New England."

"That's nice, Cas. But what the hell is this?" He gestured to the flowers.

Castiel looked around him, clutching the ring of yellow-white flowers in his hands. "Honeysuckle." He explained. "There are sheets of them in the clearing. I followed a few bees and dragonflies and they lead me there."

"And why, tell me, are there a billion of them in my car?" Dean was loosing grip on his patience.

"One moment!" Cas threaded one more flower into the band he was holding and then plopped the circlet on the hunter's head. "The smell will help soothe the stress you are currently feeling." Before Dean had the chance to try and throttle the nutjob, Castiel leaned forward and planted a kiss on the hunter's nose. And with a rush of wings, he was gone.

But he left the honeysuckle.

... ... ...

I am currently working on a smutty one. I promise. Next Chapter - "Dirty Little Hippy"


	4. Dirty Little Hippy

So yeah. Here's some smut for you all. If mature situations make you uncomfortable, skip this chapter.

Rated M for sexual content.

2014!AU

Dirty Little Hippy

Castiel inhaled and exhaled slowly before pressing the rice paper to his lips, drawing the smoke into his lungs. Holding the weed in, he flipped the page of his book. The volume was old and useful. Many of the manuscripts they once had were destroyed or lost in the fray. Things were especially bad after Sam's fall. There was a knock at the threshold of his cabin and he looked up to see Chuck. He looked quite nervous.

"I'm reading." He warned, not wanting to leave his smoke-laced space. Whatever Chuck needed, it could wait.

"Dean's askin' for you, Cas." The prophet replied, trying to convey the urgency.

Cas rolled his eyes and scoffed before taking another long drag. After releasing the smoke into the air, he waved Chuck away. "Tell him I'm busy researching for a project he insisted on. He can wait."

The small man grew more and more anxious as Castiel grew more annoyed. He hated getting caught in the middle of Dean and Cas' song and dance. "He said it was important." A blue steeled glare sent him fleeing. "Okay! I'm leaving."

The fallen angel huffed arrogantly as he resumed his studies. His joint was nearly gone before the hanging door beads erupted in a furious chorus of clattering; signaling Dean Winchester's arrival. "Damn it, Cas!" He growled, stomping up to the chair his friend occupied. "I asked for you an hour ago!"

Castiel smirked. His eyes narrowed in a cocky challenge as he looked up at the hunter. "If it was so urgent, I figured you'd find me. I'm just trying to finish the last task you gave me." He took a very long drag from the joint, sapphire eyes fixed on Dean.

The hunter growled and ripped the weed from the fallen angel's hand, crushing it up in his fist. Cas marked the page and placed the book on his table before calmly standing. He was inches away from Dean, blue orbs serious. Then he exhaled, his lips forming a ring which propelled the skunky smoke directly into the hunter's face. Once his breath ran clear, Cas smirked and asked, "What's so important, my ever loving leader?"

Dean Winchester looked as if he were brimming with rage. His fists clenched and his knuckles turned white. That smug smile of satisfaction that his angel wore only made Dean realize that this is what he wanted all along; to rile him up. Fingers curled in his short, sandy-blond hair as he was yanked into a fierce clash of lips. At first, his logical brain insisted that he stop and not give the ex-angel the satisfaction. But those soft thumbs started to rub circles behind his ears and that shut his brain up quickly.

Knowing that he had his hunter hooked, Cas slid his hands down the stubble of his neck and to his chest. He fisted the fabric of the old shirt and spun them around, pushing Dean backwards onto the bed. "So this is what was so important that I leave my research?" He mused, crawling gracefully up Dean's body. He straddled the hunter and took in the sight. Macho as he was, Dean Winchester loved to be manhandled. And Cas loved pushing him around. He leaned forward, capturing those lady-killing lips with his own, grinding his hips down. He smirked as he felt the bulge pressing against his crotch and hummed happily as Dean's breath hitched. Moving from his lips, Castiel made his way around Dean's jaw and down his neck, pulling at the hem of the hunter's shirt.

The hunter sat up, giving Cas the leverage he needed to pull the worn fabric over Dean's head. As the shirt slipped around the hunter's arms, Castiel tightened his grip. Yanking downwards, he pulled Dean back onto the mattress; but this time, his arms were pinned behind him. "Aren't we in a mood, today?"

Cas clicked his tongue. "I don't like when I'm given work and then disrupted over and over. It's irritating." He swooped in and began nipping at the flesh of Dean's chest and stomach. The hunter squirmed a bit, trying to untangle himself from his bonds. The fallen angel noticed this and slammed his hands against the hunter's shoulders, the bed thudding against the wall. "Do _not_ make me find my rope." He warned, blue eyes glinting in the candle-light.

Dean stilled, knowing Cas didn't give idle threats. He closed his eyes as his comrade ripped his jeans open and yanked the denim down to his knees, effectively killing any leg leverage he had. Dean hissed as the cool air hit his loins. But it was soon replaced with a warm, wet mouth. "_Damn it, Cas!_" He breathed. His hips bucked on their own volition and Cas held them down firmly.

Castiel moved up and down with experience, knowing the exact pressure needed to make the body beneath him squirm. Once he felt satisfied with his work, he let go of the member with a little pop and looked up at his partner. Dean was undone from top to bottom, flushed and exposed. He did quite well, if Castiel were honest with himself.

He crawled off the hunter and Dean let out a whine of protest. "Oh relax." Cas pulled off his loose shirt and sweats before returning to Dean's lap. "Say it."

"I swear, Cas, I will _kill_ you one of these days." He tried to buck against Cas' ass.

"That is not what I wanted to hear." He purred, keeping a hand firmly on Dean's chest. "Try again."

"Fuck you, Cas."

"With pleasure." Castiel chuckled, lining himself up before slamming down onto Dean. This extracted a gasp from the man under him and Cas responded with a roll of his hips. Setting a painfully slow rhythm, Cas rode the trapped hunter. He could feel Dean tremble in anticipation and frustration. The Winchester was loosing his patience.

Cas smirked and braced for the inevitable. Sure enough, Dean freed himself and thrust himself forward, toppling them over. Cas was now pinned underneath the hunter and Dean was not up for a slow and structured fuck. He doubled Castiel's previous pace and then tripled, nails digging into the fallen angel's hips.

Cas let himself enjoy the ride. After all, it was the end of the world.

As the hunter snoozed gently on Castiel's bed, the angel stood, comfortable with his nudity. Lighting up a cigarette, his eyes lingered on the form cuddling his pillow. Dean may never be the same light-hearted man he loved so long ago. But he still had Cas. And Cas had him.

… …. …

There you have it, people. You can relax. I'd like some critique and comments on it. G'night!


	5. Broken Bones

Really, Misha Collins is the most reliable Destiel Prompter ever.

Post Season 8

ANGST

Broken Bones

He was fine. Really. Castiel had tried on several occasions to assure Dean Winchester that falling from Grace was not as earth shattering to him as the brothers seemed to think. The guilt of his brothers was still weighing on his conscience. But that did not stop him from seizing the day and adapting to a new life. After all, the angel intended to become a hunter a year before. Why not just resume that intention?

Dean, on the other hand, was not so confident. After the brothers found Cas, the elder Winchester doted and dithered over every little thing. He became hostile and agitated quickly whenever Cas so much as broke a nail. But what annoyed Castiel the most was whenever Sam mentioned anything to do with God, Heaven or angels, Dean would throw a fit. He'd even wager that the hunter was more sensitive to the subject than he was.

That Thursday morning, they had one of those fights. Sam and Cas were munching contentedly on frozen waffles when Dean joined them. The subject of conversation before the elder hunter arrived had been about old manuscripts. Most of their talks were about what Dean would call 'nerd nonsense.' Castiel was telling the younger Winchester that he had remembered a text he had seen in Jerusalem. It had been a beautiful artifact that the angels brought to man over three thousand years ago.

That was the exact point in the discussion in which Dean arrived. Sam looked up at his brother and in an instant, he braced himself.

Cas, on the other hand, was not facing the door and didn't know that the hunter was behind him until it was too late. "Sammy!" He hissed. "Can I talk to you?"

The hair on the back of Castiel's neck rose in anxiety as the tension thickened. He experienced this sensation many times over the last few weeks and he decidedly did not like it. And on that gorgeous, sunny morning, he was not having any of it. "_Dean_!" His voice was low and commanding.

The hunter's jaw snapped shut as Cas whirled around to face him. The blue eyes were barely slits and Dean went back to the time he almost became Michael's meat-suit.

"Stop yelling at Sam. We were having a nice morning before you came in."

"But he-" Dean tired to interject; to gain some sort of control over the situation. He stepped forward, appealing to the fallen angel.

"No!" Castiel yelled, reaching out and pushing against Dean's sternum. The hunter stumbled backwards yet remained standing. "I am _not_ a broken little bird who needs to have its wings fixed. If anything, your brother needs more of your annoying hovering than I do. I'm not just going to fall apart at any given mention of my old life. Because I'll tell you something about my old life: it was thousands of years of brainwashing. So stop being mean to Sam because the problem here is _you_!"

Dean felt as if a brick wall had fallen on him like in a Wily Coyote cartoon. Cas stomped past him, slamming the kitchen door.

Sam remained silent for a few agonizing moments. "Do you w-"

"No."

…. ….

The following Saturday was rainy and bleak. Cas wasn't talking to Dean. Dean wasn't talking much at all and Sam felt incredibly awkward. He was anxious for the pair to leave for a hunt so he could be rid of the tension in the bunker. He tried to bid them both good bye on their way out to deal with a ghost but all he received from either one of them was a grunt.

Cas felt a little guilty about his treatment of Sam that morning, but Dean had 'royally pissed him off,' so to say. The elder Winchester seemed to have more of that affect on him now that he was human. The ride was silent and uncomfortable but the case went smoothly enough. They split up for the information; Dean dealt with the people while Cas hit the library.

The spirit had been causing havoc outside of a farm's barn for the last week; fires, floating pick-axes, the usual. Castiel researched the history of the farm and found that a lynching had happened there during the civil rights movements and it was apparently brutal. Dean managed to find a way onto the farm at night and they regrouped after sundown to prepare.

They barely made eye-contact as they loaded up the rock salt. Castiel was determined not to cave and talk to the hunter. Being human brought out a stubborn side to him. Dean, on the other hand, seemed to have been fighting some sort of battle with himself. Maybe he was finally figuring out that Cas was actually just fine.

The barn was eerie and worn. The roof was falling apart and a corner near the loft was burned badly. Dean went first, shotgun ready. "I hate it when it's too quiet." He muttered. "Feels like some cheesy horror movie."

Cas mentally agreed, remembering that he was giving the silent treatment. He heard an indignant huff from the other man. It was barely there but the angel had heard it anyway. Sure enough, as they both were distracted by their tiff, the tools on the wall began to rattle and Castiel was thrown backwards, out the barn door.

"Cas!" Dean shouted angrily. The apparition made itself known as a large man with dark skin and jet black hair appeared above the loft. His neck had an ugly rope mark and his face was bashed and bruised. The hunter aimed and fired but it was too slow. The ghost reappeared behind him and Dean was blasted forward, headlong into a work bench.

Castiel, meanwhile, was recovering from having the wind knocked clean from his lungs. In that moment, he knew that it was the worst feeling ever. As he squirmed on the ground, a cross jutting out from the ground caught his eye. When he could breathe again, he made his way towards it. The wooden marker was old and all he needed was a name. "Miah Jones." He read and started to dig frantically, hoping that it was a shallow grave.

Dean was fairing a bit better as he managed to get his hands on an iron chain. He could taste blood but he didn't mind. The thrill of the hunt was coursing through his veins and he felt alive again. Dodging the spirit's fury, he closed in on it. "Come closer, you bitch."

As the spirit lunged, it broke off in a scream. Within seconds, it combusted and burned down into dissipating ash. Dean let out a huff of adrenaline and then remembered his angel. Cas met him outside the barn door.

The fallen angel's heart fell as he gazed on the broken face before him. Dean's nose was bent to the left and blood oozed from his nostrils. His cheeks were red with scrapes and blood. Castiel hated when his hunter looked like that. His mind recalled each time he had seen Dean in a similar state and his hand reached out. "Dean."

The freckled man held his breath as fingertips pressed gently against his jawline. The blue eyes were startlingly close. Dean watched as the blue pools began to fill with rain and panic set into Castiel's face. His brows knit in confused anxiety and his mouth fell open with a whimper. "Cas." The name fell from his lips as the dark-haired man broke down.

"I... I can't fix it..." Castiel's voice brimmed with pain and confusion. "Dean... I..."

The grip on his jaw tightened slightly and Dean reached up to cover the hand with his own. "It's okay, Cas." He tried but it was in vain. Tears fell from blue eyes made brighter by the red creeping its way to Castiel's stubbled face. The fallen angel tried to pull away but Dean gripped the hand he held and pulled Cas into his arms. "It's okay. I promise. It'll be fine. We'll be fine."

It felt life an eternity before Castiel calmed. Dean held him as he shook and sobbed angrily. No matter how many times the fallen angel tried to break away, the hunter tightened his hold. He would not let go. Dean kissed the mop of dark hair over and over, choking down the sob threatening to leave his own throat.

"We'll be fine, Cas."

…. …. …. …. ….

So here's some angst. I'm not great at sad things. But I tried. Let me know what needs work. :)


	6. A Bump in the Night

Okay. Hi, everyone! It's been a little while. I've been sick and busy with work. 120 affluent elderlies are not going to feed themselves. Believe you me.

So this is for selphix on Tumblr. It (I didn't ask the gender) sent me this prompt.

Rated M for sexual content and language.

A Bump in the Night

"_Dean_!" The exclamation was soft; sensual, if one must use a singular description. It reeked of want. It gushed with need. But in the soft undertones of pleasure, that one word spoken bore a hint of pleading. Another noise sounded in the darkness of the new moon. Low and sweet; it sounded like a moan. "Dean, Sam is-"

"I know!" The reply was equally heavy with lust. A flutter of fabric in the still air followed and after, a grunt. Dean leaned forward against the broad back and found an ear with his lips. His voice was barely a hush; not even a whisper. "That's why you have to be quiet."

The springs of a mattress let out a creaking protest as weight shifted above them. Then a stillness settled in the shadows. The buzz of summer beetles and grasshoppers filled the motel room, momentarily drowning the thick, lust-driven panting. The quiet broke with a guttural groan. It was cut off as a hand clamped over Castiel's lips. The soft, low voice returned to his ear as stretching, probing fingers found a sweet nerve. "Stick your head in a pillow or something!" Dean hissed as his hand prevented the majority of another moan's volume. There was an "oof!" as the hand on Castiel's mouth moved to the back of his head and he was pushed face down into a pillow.

With Cas successfully quieted, Dean worked at preparing himself and his lover. But his plan was quickly spoiled as Cas began to move with the fingers inside him. The springs let out a cry of metal and the wooden frame groaned as the a rhythm set in. Muffled cries sounded in the darkness; impressively loud in the room. Dean cursed quietly, abandoning his efforts. A sound of protest came from the body beneath him; loud enough for Dean to know that Cas turned his head.

He growled and pushed Castiel's face back down. "Do you want Sammy to hear us?" Eager to proceed, the hunter pushed in quickly, sheathing himself fully. His stomach was flush against the curve of Cas' back. He pulled back slowly, attempting to stifle any sound. Yet the heat around him kindled the fire in his chest and he bathed in the flames of passion. The bed resumed its protests as the two lovers moved together. As their pace increased, the vessel of their lovemaking screamed beneath them. The wooden headboard began to slam against the wall.

As the pressure of pleasure began to swell, Castiel abandoned his pillow and arched off the bed, letting out a cry of release. "Dean!" Dean shuddered from behind him, pulling the angel closer. His grip on the strong hips tightened like a vice.

The buzzing of insects settled back into the room. The mattress creaked as Dean pulled away, allowing Cas to turn around before capturing the angel in a languid kiss. As they lay in the summer heat of night, lip-locked, the fire began to rise again. Dean knew they had made too much noise already, yet his groin began that familiar protest.

KOCK KOCK KOCK

Dean snapped away and peered at the door, illuminated only by a dim line on the floor. Feet shadowed parts of the light and the hunter crawled off the bed, groping for some boxers. He pulled on a pair, not caring who they belonged to, and opened the door.

His face froze as ice water doused it. Sam stood in the doorway with a cup in hand. "Go to sleep, you little horndogs!"

"Bitch."

"The walls are thin, you jerk."

Quiet settled as the door closed. "So. Round two?"

…. …. ….

I hope you enjoyed this. It was steamy to write. I had to take a few breaks.


	7. Hogwarts Drabbles 1-3

PART 1

The Gryffindors filed into Charms class, groggy and thoroughly uninterested. Sixth year Dean Winchester rubbed furiously at his eyes, trying to push the sleep out of them. _Who the hell schedules a class at seven in the morning?!_ He asked himself. What was worse, it was one of the few classes his nerdy little brother hadn't managed to take in his advanced schedule.

The tables were filling with students clad in black. Some were trimmed in crimson and gold while others bore crests of blue and silver. Dean didn't necessarily _hate_ Ravenclaws, but they did bore him into oblivion.

The sandy-blond boy flopped his bag on the table before collapsing into the chair. Groaning, he buried his face in his arms.

"Are you feeling ill?" A surprisingly low voice interrupted the begining of his nap. Lifting his apparently three ton head, he peered at the student addressing him.

Dean's mouth disconnected from his brain as his eyes fell on the most disarming face he'd ever seen. Cobalt blue eyes were set against creamy fair skin. It contrasted dangerously with cocoa colored hair, nigh black. The stranger had pink, lightly chapped lips which highlighted the strong, wide jaw. The face was finished with an adorable dimpled chin.

The Ravenclaw tilted his head to the side and his dark brow knit in confusion. "Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?" He asked, concerned. He seemed familiar, but the Winchester never had a class with him.

Dean finally found his voice. "Uh…. no, no. I'm fine." He coughed, straightening up in his seat. "We just had a… small party in the common rooms last night."

The other boy looked around the room for a moment. "I see." He said, thoughtful. "Yes. I can tell now your fellow Gryffindors are equally…"

"Hungover?" Dean offered.

A light blush covered the Raven's cheeks, but a saucy smirk barely twitch at the corner of those chapped lips. "Is anyone sitting in that seat?" He pointed at the chair to Dean's right.

"You?" Dean smiled, feeling like a goof all the while. As his new friend sat next to him, he extended his hand. "Dean Winchester."

The Raven smiled and shook his hand. "Castiel."

PART 2

Dean ran his fingers through his short hair, agitated. The dew and the fog in the air made the Quidditch Pitch cold and damp. The Gryffindor swayed from side to side, switching his broom from his left to his right and over again. Every few seconds, he'd look up at the stands, scanning.

"Dean!" Sam's voice snapped him back to reality. His younger brother stood in his crimson and gold practice uniform, arms crossed. "What is going on with you?" He gave a mocking expression of concern. "Do you have ant in your pants?"

Dean scowled. "No!" He knew he sounded like a little child, but he didn't much care. He heard Sam huff as he ignored the over grown kid and resumed his searching.

"Practice is gunna start in a few minutes, Dean. Who the hell are you looking for?"

"No one!" The Chaser insisted, not looking away from the wooded benches, looming around them.

"It's a girl, isn't it?" The tone in Sam's voice flattened. When he was not given an answer, he threw his arms in the air with exasperation. "Of _course_, it's a girl!" Trust Dean Winchester to fret over what ever girl he was snogging that week. He did notice, however, that his older brother seemed far more nervous than he ever has before.

Dean could feel the moose's eyes, trying to figure out some bullshit, but he ignored it. Panic began to set in his stomach. I'm being stood up. He thought, not enjoying the resentment building in his chest. He was about to give up when he spotted movement in the red and gold checkered area.

His face broke into a beaming grin as he hopped onto his broom. "Be back in a sec, Sammy!"

As his brother flew away, Sam squinted to see which airhead Dean was 'dating' now. But he was shock to not see a girl, but a boy. And Sam knew that boy. It was unmistakable; the blue and silver scarf and the dark, moppish hair. "Castiel?"

PART 3

The library was cool and dim. The shelves shifted and changed as the sixth year Ravenclaw walked down the Potions section. His blue eyes were intently searching for a title. Castiel sighed as he scanned a shelf four times. "I was sure it was here." He muttered, brows knitting together in frustration. Had he gotten to the Library a day ago, he'd have found the volume and finished his essay by now.

Lately, a few academics were suffering. Not that it made much of a difference; his scores were still beyond adequate. At that moment, however, he cursed the repeating distraction. A flush crept up his neck as a recently familiar face floated into his conscience mind.

Dean Winchester was constantly appearing out of every corner in Castiel's life. He had gone five whole years without even speaking to the boy before and now… Castiel couldn't get those brilliant green eyes out of his head; that freckled, tanned face and his irritating and endearing smile.

"Cas?" A voice broke his reverie. Turning, he saw two Gryffindor robes. In those robes stood Sam and Dean Winchester. The younger boy, Castiel had known since his first day. He was an eight year old with ambition, attending Hogwarts three years in advanced. Four years later, Sam had made a name for himself in the higher level classes. And his recent growth spurt

Dean stood next to his brother, emerald eyes fixed to Castiel's face. The heat in the Ravenclaw's face intensified and he was glad for the dim lighting. "Hello, Dean. Sam."

"Hiya, Cas!" Dean replied, walking up to the scholar's stack of books. "A bit of light reading, then?"

Castiel smiled at the nickname. No one had thought to call him that, opting either for 'Castiel' or 'Cassie.' He liked hearing the new name. He liked it even better coming from those full lips. "I'm working on a Potions essay."

"When's it due?"

Sam shook his head as his brother's full attention shifted to Cas, smiling. "Alright. I'm gunna go find a table. See you later."

Castiel waved as Sam walked away, but Dean was still intently looking at him. The Ravenclaw felt flustered and far too warm. But he was good at keeping his face set. "It's due on Friday."

The Gryffindor scoffed. "Friday?! That's a week from now."

"So I had better get started on it, then." That sounded rude but Cas tended to be condescending by nature.

"C'mon, Cas! You're brilliant. You have time to save me from boring Sammy." He pleaded , moving even closer. But he was surprised at his new friend's expression. "Why are you smiling?"

The sapphire eyes sparkled in the light. "Because, if you _do_ manage to mess up my grades, I'll just hex you into oblivion."

"At least let me help you carry those." He huffed, picking up one of Castiel's stacks. "Do you ever worry that you'll be crushed under a mountain of books?"

"Aren't you ever afraid of getting your skull crushed in by a Bludger?"

"I am now."


End file.
